


Things that remain unsaid

by restlessAnatomy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 02:36:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlessAnatomy/pseuds/restlessAnatomy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Dave move in together after SBURB, romance happens. Gift fic for piratenkoenigin!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things that remain unsaid

It seemed only natural to move in together after Sburb.

The four of them hadn't learned to depend on each other, no- it was more like they had been forced to depend on the others, to trust people they had only ever seen through grainy webcam videos and cheap digital camera photos with their lives. So they had. They threw themselves into the game, blinding themselves to the consequences of their actions, because surely if they stopped to think about what they were doing, they would have never been able to get started again.

But they were all there for each other, and forced the others to keep going.

And so it went.

The game went so fast, flew by so quickly, that by the time that they had finally, finally figured out how everything worked, and started to get used to living in constant fear of death, not noticing themselves aging, losing track of the days, the four teenagers-nearly-adults sleeping in a pile each night to conserve heat- it changed. They won. The Scratch was iniated, and the moment the needles gouged the last millimetre of the reset button, the universe split in two-

and the breath was wrenched from their lungs-

and everything was dark and it hurt-

and they woke up.

As was agreed, the first thing they did was jump on Pesterchum. John was the first one awake; he had been ambushed by his father the moment he'd opened his eyes, and been surprised with an explosion of confetti and a cream-filled pie to his face.

It was the thirteenth of April, 2014. It was his eighteenth birthday.

Shit. We were in the game for five years?

It hadn't felt like five years. It hadn't felt like any years. After a while, everything blurred together, and it was all sleep, wake, eat, fight, run, fight, eat, sleep, wake. That was all there was to it. In the game, time didn't pass. Oh, it existed, but it didn't function as it was meant to. The only person who really understood how it had worked was Dave, and he would never explain it in years to come.

It actually made a lot of sense that five years had passed in what felt like the space of a single day, at times. It was just the final mindfuck of the game, John liked to think.

By the time he had escaped from his father's clutches and gotten onto the computer, Rose had woken up. They discussed the traumatic experience of the reset until Jade joined them, twenty minutes later.

Then they waited... and waited... and waited... for Dave, for several hours. Finally, he logged on as the sun began to set outside John's home.

They reminisced about the game together and wondered about when the trolls would bother them again until they all fell asleep at the computer, one by one.

Resetting the universe is hard work, after all.

Then came the double challenge of adjusting to everything being normal once more, and being adults.

Jade finally got the immigration deal sorted, made easier by her being a legal American citizen, and moved into a flat in the next town over from Rose's, one room for her, one room for whatever dog she was taking care of for the No-Kill shelter. Bec had died with the destruction of the Green Sun, and though Jade seemed to cope admirably with his death, she still didn't feel at home without a dog there. In a display of irony that got even Dave to stop and think, she was the one who adjusted the fastest.

Rose went off to go to law school, and was online less and less. She made a point of calling at least one every two weeks, and says she still considers them her closest friends.

Dave would wake up each morning and roll out of bed, rub his eyes, then go back to sleep thinking "I can just roll time back when I wake up"... and of course when he woke up again, he would be running late for whatever job interview or class or what the fuck ever he had set up for the day. Because his time powers were gone. And while he dressed without showering or shaving and bolted from the house to get to the bus station on time, he'd send John about a million texts ( "i am so goddamn fucking late that if i were any later id napping on a nice soil mattress" "stop texting me and keep moving, retard! good luck, dude!").

John would be unable to sit still whenever the wind blew, and nearly cried with guilt because of a hurricane in another country that killed several people, only to be calmed down by a phonecall from Dave ("But I sneezed really, really hard and then the news came on and-!" "Egbert, calm the hell down, if you could still do the windy thing your house would be nonexistant by now.").

Even without the game forcing them together, the two grew closer and closer as each day passed. And hey, it just so happened that there was a school offering the exact subjects John wanted to take (Biology, geology, music) in Texas! And hey, it was the school Dave had applied to (Creative writing, photography, mechanics)! And there was a share-room for sale, on campus, dead cheap!

How could they not take it, when they were accepted?

The apartment was tiny. Two miniscule bedrooms, an even smaller bathroom, and the living room and the kitchen were actually one room. It smelled like weed no matter how much incense they burned/Febreze they sprayed, and the heating didn't work, but it was home. And they were together, two bros going to college together, and it was so fucking normal that they could almost forget that they had first met in the midst of a crazy battle for their lives, pretend they had grown up together in the perfect white-picketfence world that they only saw on TV.

Almost.

So they grew even closer.

They learned everything about one another. Like how John sang (very off-key) Lady Gaga songs when he thought he was alone, and how Dave refused to wash his hair with anything other than Garnier Fructus. How John liked to hug anyone at any opportunity given to him, and how Dave would walk around shirtless for no reason at all.

How John talked in his sleep.

They'd been sleeping together since the first night they moved in. No, not like that, asshole. They'd pooled their cash and only come up with enough for one bed, and since neither of them wanted to ask for money, they just went with it. John had taken the shitty couch at first, in a ridiculous attempt at hospititality in his own home, but it ended up just being too uncomfortable and lumpy to sleep on, so, half-asleep, he walked to the room Dave was sleeping in, entered without knocking, and flopped onto the bed next to him only to fall asleep a second later.

They woke up with their arms around one another, and were totally okay with that.

At first, the near-constant stream of babbling from John's mouth kept Dave up. By the second night, however, he'd grown accustomed to it so much so that it formed a sort of white noise, and nowadays it's hard for him to sleep without it.

And as time wore on, they only grew closer, and more comfortable with the other. One time, John brought a girl home from work, whom he had apparently been on a few dates with before, and they ended up watching a movie with John half-sitting on Dave's lap to make room for her on the couch.

She didn't come back.

John had been so damn confused, too. He'd agonised for three full days- almost down to the exact second, Dave noted - before asking her what had scared her on their lunch-break. When he returned from work that day, expression confused and slightly upset, Dave barely had time to ask what his deal was before John asked:

"Do we hug too much?"

Dave was silent a few moments before lifting his shades, so John could appreciate the full strength of his incredulous stare. "What?"

"Amy said she didn't want to go out anymore because we were too... touchy-feely? She said it made us seem like we were..." He trailed off and shrugged, gazing down at his feet. "Y'know."

"If she can't handle the sheer epic that are our bro-cuddles, then she's not the right girl for you." Dave patted the space next to him on the couch, beckoning him over with a twitch of his head. "C'mon. There's a Mythbusters marathon starting in a couple minutes."

John had hesitated for a total of a second and a half before giving in and shuffling up on the couch next to Dave, so his back curved again Dave's front.

A few hours later, Dave woke up, finding their glasses on the ground, and John's face mushed up against his chest. Confident he would be the only one aware of it, he craned his neck downward to kiss that shock of messy black hair.

John murmured contentedly and wrapped his arms more tightly around Dave's waist. Dave stayed like that until he fell back asleep, body warm and head full of John's unique scent, a mix between barbasol and dryer sheets.

-

What seemed to be more than a hundred polaroid snapshots littered the apartment.

They were tacked to the walls, taped to the grubby mirror in the bathroom, and piles half an inch were covering every square centimeter of whatever table was available in the house. A fair amount of them were the standard ones; Myspace angle photos of Dave taken against the mirror, random snapshots of various body parts, an extreme close-up of John making the most ridiculous expression. 

But for every stack of pointless photos of this sort was a stray picture that made John's throat close up with emotion he didn't know he had or know why he was feeling them.

At first the mess had been confined to only Dave's room, but as the days progressed the snapshots littered the floor much like fallen leaves, and finally John felt compelled to ask.

"Yeah?" Came Dave's slow, distracted drawl of a reply when John knocked on the door of the spare-room-turned-darkroom.

"What's with all the photos?"

Dave was silent for a minute before answering. "I've got an assignment," He began, moving a bunch of negatives to his desk, and then leaned against the wall to look at John before continuing. "I've gotta come up with something meaningful, less focus on the rules and shit, more on finding emotions and shit, then get that in a photograph."

"Oh... cool. Is it going alright?" John moved closer to Dave's desk, craning his neck to see the photos lying on it.

"See for yourself." Dave said, handing John a photo that had been sitting on top of the pile.

John pushed his glasses up his nose and peered at it for a moment, before looking up at Dave, eyebrows raised. "A bunch of stars?"

"Not just any bunch, dumbass. Look harder."

He did, frowning as he struggled to recognise the vaguely-familiar cluster of stars, but astrology had never been his forté. "What's... what's it called?" He asked, giving up.

"The photo, or the constellation?"

"The photo."

"Terezi." Dave stated simply, as though the word meant nothing. But a jolt shot through John's entire body as he took another look at the photo, and yup, it was the constellation Libra. "You like it?"

"Yeah. But I don't know if your teacher's going to get it... I mean, people take photos of the stars all the time and... I don't think anyone would understand the significance of this, unless they'd played Sburb. And actually talked to her, too, so..."

Dave nodded, and sat on his desk, crushing several photos of himself in the process. "I know. I can't think of anything else, though." John joined him, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. "I miss her, y'know."

"Yeah, I know." John said quietly, leaning against him. "I miss Vriska, too. And Karkat! ...God, it feels like it's been so long. I wonder if they think about us?"

"I'd be surprised if they didn't," Dave laughed, draping an arm around John's shoulders. "we're pretty unforgettable."

"Haha, yeah." John sighed, closing his eyes and letting his memories take forefront in his mind. "Would you ever play it again, if it meant you'd get to talk to her again?"

Dave was silent as he thought this over. "No... No, I don't think so."

"Me neither. I wouldn't want to run the risk of losing you guys."

Dave hummed in agreement, and threaded his fingers through John's. John squeezed his hand in response, and for a long while they sat there together, completely silent, remembering the past and the friends they'd lost.

"Can I take one of you? Like, a serious one?" Dave asked suddenly, his voice over-loud compared to the quiet moment that had just passed. John blinked rapidly, feeling as though he had just been plunged into a cold bucket of water, and took a few moments to respond. Dave took photos of him, sure, a damn lot of them too- but they had all been focused on the most ridiculously pointless thing John could think of, like him brushing his teeth, tying his shoes, getting cereal, and so on. He'd ask him what the heck he was doing, and Dave would say nothing in return but take another photo of his questioning face.

(One time, he tried to take a photo of him getting out of the shower as a joke. John screamed like a girl and covered himself with the loofah, which caused Dave to keel over laughing.)

Yet, the prospect of Dave wanting to take an honest-to-God proper photo of him, presumably posing him... well, he wasn't really sure what to say other than:

"Uh, sure I guess? How do I..." He trailed off as Dave disentangled himself from him, grabbing his camera from his desk as he went, and stood a few feet from John.

"Just sit naturally, like- yeah! Like that, exactly. Don't move." Dave lifted his shades and brought the camera to his eye, training the focus on John sitting on the desk. John merely stared back, looking over his shoulder at him. Dave snapped the photo but didn't lower the camera, still looking through the viewfinder. Something about the way John sat, totally at ease, completely comfortable with Dave staring baldly at him, made something ache inside his chest. The curve of his back and the placement of his limbs were almost graceful, he thought to himself, and seemed to reflect the remains of the freeness of the wind he had once manipulated. In that moment, Dave thought that John could fly. He felt like he could himself.

He snapped a few more photographs and crossed the room to circle John in his arms, mumbling against the top of his head that they were perfect.

He turned in the first one of the batch and named it "Heir". He got an A.

-

Dave and John spent the entire Autumn and Winter terms huddled together on that shitty mattress, bodies so close together they could hardly move, so they could keep warm. But the snow would eventually melt, the turtlenecks and snowboots crept their way back into the closet, and out came the flip-flops and sandals.

They spent as long as they could sharing the bed, but it was evident that when June rolled around and they woke up in a puddle of sweat for the fifth night in a row that a new bed needed to be bought. John's dad, sensing a situation that he could foist his fatherly guidance (and financial support) upon the unwilling young men, wired John enough money to buy a new bed. With much struggle, they finally got the damn thing into the previously unused second bedroom and made the bed (rather, plopped a pillow and a ratty sheet onto it.)

The two of them spent most of the night on the couch, John lying down with his legs over Dave's, playing some new X-box game to pass the time. 2 AM rolled around, and the pair were nearly falling asleep on the couch even in that strange position. Slightly awkwardly, they went about their preparations for bed with the knowledge that they wouldn't be in the same room for the night.

John wasn't really sure if he should have been thinking about how he'd miss Dave's arms. Dave wasn't really sure if he should have been thinking about how he'd miss John's.

It felt like an hour before they fell asleep. And when he did finally nod off, John dreamed.

He dreamed they were back in the game. He dreamed himself stumbling over his father's corpse, over Rose's mother's. He dreamed of the throngs of dead Daves, he dreamed of Jade pushing him out of the way of the falling moon of gold, Rose delivering the bomb, he dreamed red hot pain knife in his chest, everyone he loved was gone and there was so much blood--

He woke up with tears in his eyes and his hands gripping his sheets so tightly his knuckles where bone-white.

And without even wiping his eyes, he bolted to Dave's room and collapsed onto the bed next to him, making a frenzied half-choked noise, batting Dave's arm to wake him up. He rolled over almost immediately, saw the panic in John's eyes, and all but pulled the brunette down, tucking his head under his chin and patting his back softly in the way he knew always calmed him down when he got worked up.

"What's the matter?" Dave mumbled. John sniffed against his chest and wrapped his arms tighter around his waist. "Egbert, I don't speak sulk-ese. You're gonna have to speak English."

"...Bad dream." He finally managed to say, fully expecting Dave to laugh.

Dave merely hummed sympathetically and said, "Tell me about it."

So John did. The whole time he talked, Dave lay there, comforting his best friend, not interrupting, not making a sound until John had finished. And when he had, John removed his head from the underside of Dave's head to better take in his face, smiling placidly at the feeling of security he had been granted.

Dave moved his head forward so their foreheads were touching, red eyes locked on blue, and spoke very quietly: "Jack's dead, John. We won the game. You don't need to be scared."

John showed his appreciation for Dave's kind words by closing the distance between their faces and kissing him, softly, only for a second.

 

The next day, Dave borrowed a bunch of money from his Bro to buy a decent fan for his room, so they could share without overheating.

-

It was another average day in the Egbert-Strider dorm room (or as Dave liked to call it, the Brocastle), which of course means John had forgotten Dave was home, and was singing with his ipod on, completely oblivious to the phone ringing in his pocket.

"CUZ BABY I WAS BORN THIS WAA-AAY-"

"Jegus fucking Christ Egbert, do I need to cram some decent music down your throat! Get the fucking phone!"

Rolling his eyes behind his shades, Dave jumped over the back of the couch and pinned John against the wall, eliciting a surprised yelp from the younger male, and pulled the phone from his back pocket himself. Flushed from both being sprung singing and the unexpected sort-of buttgrope, John only watched as Dave shook the phone at him as if to say, "Was that really so hard?", and then answered it.

"Yo. Yeah, it's totes your bespectacled bucktoothed arranged husband, Lalonde. Hardy har- wait, what? Way to give us some fucking notice. Well yeah, now we need to clear out all the hookers and hide the cocaine. When do you think- Christ, didn't your mother ever tell you not to interrupt people? Six? Aight. Want us to come pick you up? 'Kay, bye." He hung up and pockets John's phone. John didn't even bother to comment.

"Was that Rose?"

Dave nodded. "Yeah, apparently she invited herself over to stay for a couple nights. Ecto-paradox sister or not, bitch has a pretty skewed..." He trailed off as John swore loudly and began to dash around the room, throwing shit around in a pathetic emulation of tidying. "Egbert?"

"It's four! She'll be here in two hours!" John squeaked, his voice a pitch that should be impossible for a 18 year old man. "And we've got shit everywhere-"

"Calm your tits, John." His given name acted as a sort of sedative, as John slowed his ministrations, picking up and putting down the same dirty shirt several times. "Do you really think Lalonde is gonna be shocked that our crib looks like it's been hit by a tornado?"

He considered this. They'd been friends with Rose for over five years now, and while they might not be as close as they had used to be, she knew them well enough to know that neither of them gave half a shit about their living quarters for the most part. Visibly calmer now, he turned to Dave and shook his head. "Uh, no, I guess not."

Dave snorted. "I just can't believe you were the hero, with the regularity you flip out over unimportant shit like this. Aren't the heroes meant to be cool and collected?"

"Why, of course, Dave!" John grinned, pushing at him playfully as he passed. "Just like you! You are my hero. I am the damsel in distress. It is me."

"Better stay on that couch there and loosen your corset, Egderpina, we don't want you swooning all over the place when Lalonde's here." Dave shot back, voice as smooth as fresh-poured pavement. John threw pair of boxers at him and continued to tidy. "So where's she gonna sleep?"

"The spare bed, where else would she... oh." John looked up at Dave, expression suddenly bashful. "Then she'd know we."

Dave cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest in an unconcious attempt to protect himself from the awkwardness of the situation. "Yeah. Well, that'd be pretty hard to explain, huh."

"Y-yeah! I doubt she'd believe it's just... what did you call it? Bro-cuddles?" John chuckled softly at the sound of the term, and continued. "She'd say it was because we weren't hugged enough as kids or something."

"No, we're obviously secretly attracted to animals, get it right." Dave smirked a bit, and uncrossed his arms. "Well, why don't you stop moving all our shit around and go make that other bed look like it's been slept in, alright?"

John saluted exaggeratedly and walked off to do this, while Dave made his own bed and threw a pillow on the couch for himself, later on that night.

Later, when Rose strode right into the apartment after Dave opened it and was promptly pulled into a hug by John, the first words out of her mouth were:

"John, is that David's shirt?"

John glanced down at the broken record motif on the front of the shirt he was wearing, laughed sheepishly, and nodded. Rose quirked a blonde eyebrow and "hmm"ed.

-

"I won't deny that the night sky is beautiful, but I hadn't taken you to be a stargazer, David."

"Would you stop calling me David, Jegus Christ Lalonde, you know that's not my name."

Rose said nothing in return, sitting next to Dave on the tiny balcony outside of the apartment. She was forced to thread her thin legs through the bars of the railing, so little was the space, but she hardly minded.

"Why don't we forgo the pleasant semantics of a typical conversation and get straight to the point. I've noticed that there is a lot of tension between you and our awkward Heir."

Dave rolled his eyes, hidden by the shades that he hadn't thought to remove despite the darkness and resulting difficulty in seeing. "You could see tension in jello, that doesn't mean shit. What evidence do you have?"

"Oh, the lingering touches, the doe-eyed gazes, your constantly being within close proximity to the other... not to mention the fact that you happen to be comfortable wearing one another's clothes. I like the green slimer boxers, by the way."

Flushing, Dave scowled and yanked his jeans up. "Bitch."

"Oh, the sharpness of your words sting, Strider. Still your barbs, I beseech thee." She placed her hands behind her on the cool concrete and tilted her head back, looking up at the sky. "You know I won't judge you, Dave. Why don't you just tell me what is going on?"

Dave sighed and began to speak, recounting everything he deemed important right from the day they had moved in together. Sharing the bed, the constant close contact, how they preferred to be with one another rather than anyone else- with extensive prompting, he even recounted the story of the night they had tried to sleep apart, and the resulting kiss.

"...And that's pretty much it. What do you think I've got, Freud? Schizophrenia? Depression? An unconscious phallic obsession?"

"I'm not so sure about those first two, but the final one seems fitting. Though obviously for reasons other than the passionate embrace you have recently enlightened me to." Here, she paused, and placed her chin in her hands as she thought this over. "I would say you care deeply about our favorite, as you so kindly put it, 'derp'."

Dave scoffed and rolled his eyes at this. "Uh, no shit? If I didn't like him I wouldn't be living with him. You're the worst psychologist ever. You're fired. Pink slip's in the mail."

She hit him on the shoulder. "I know you know what I mean, Dave. Go on. Say it aloud. It will do you good to hear your suspicions confirmed verbally."

"And what about you and Harley? Like you can talk. You've got unironic fondness for her coming out the wazoo."

"Dave."

"I think..." He screwed up his face as he thought, finally letting himself think about and acknowledge the things he hadn't been allowing to cross his mind when not asleep or alone in a hot shower- that he wanted to kiss John, touch him, do silly, uncool things to make him happy, to hold him and never let him go. "I think I pretty much love the guy."

Relief shot through him as he said the words, and he felt as though a weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders; it was out, he had admitted it and, while it wasn't really a surprise to him, as he figured it would have had to happen eventually, it still felt good to admit it.

To her credit, Rose said nothing about how she had known it all along - of course she had, she was his flesh and blood in a way, how could she not? - but merely asked, "What are you going to do about it?"

Dave was silent for a few moments before he looked over and smirked, finally pushing his shades to the top of his head. "I've got a few ideas."

-

EB: yeah, he's been pretty weird lately.  
TT: Hm. Define "weird".  
EB: like...  
EB: he keeps doing nice crap for me, like always getting shit he knows i like.  
TT: How awful. He is treating you with unconditional kindness. I weep for you, John.  
EB: hey shut up i'm not done!  
EB: he's stopped calling me egbert, too! for the most part.  
EB: unless i like spill apple juice on his turntables or something.  
EB: i'm not really sure because of the shades, but i'm pretty sure he looks at me a lot.  
EB: like. intense gazing. i'd say kinda smoldery but.. it's hard to tell with the shades.  
EB: also it sounds a little... y'know.  
EB: gay.  
EB: it probably is though. smoldery i mean.  
EB: and um, haha, i think he's ironically treating me like some sort of princess.  
EB: opening doors for me and putting his jacket in puddles.  
EB: it's kind of fucking ridiculous really.  
EB: aaaaand that's about it.  
TT: Methinks our beloved Knight is trying to woo you, John.  
TT: I best ready the fainting couch, I sense a swoon coming on.  
EB: uh...  
EB: i'm pretty sure dave is not a homosexual, rose.  
TT: I beg to differ, based on some of the things he has confided in me.  
TT: Regardless, one doesn't need to be a homosexual to fall in love with someone of one's own gender, however.  
EB: woah woah woah!  
EB: slow down there, rose. dave and i are bros! the best of bros. whatever love there is is like... platonic.  
EB: platonic love.  
EB: where the heck is this coming from?  
TT: So platonic life partners platonically sleep in the same bed?  
EB: uh.  
TT: David already told me about that.  
EB: god dammit dave.  
EB: but, yes! it's platonic.  
TT: Can you explain to me how it is?  
EB: it's because you suck.  
EB: you suck is how.  
TT: Fascinating.  
TT: In any case, you seem to be forgetting the fact that there is such a thing as homoromantic, biromantic, and so on, identities which can be combined with one's sexual preference.  
TT: But you seem sadly unware of the details of any orientations other than heterosexual and homosexual. Or the existance of them. Have you ever heard the term demisexual, John?  
TT: No no, don't answer. I know what's coming; a monosyllabic expression of confusion, followed closely by a question mark.  
EB: uhhhhhhhhhhh?  
TT: Bingo.  
EB: how do you even KNOW this stuff, rose?  
TT: There is this activity you may not have heard of. It's quite a new thing, and it is remarkably underground. I have a feeling you are unaware of its existence.  
TT: It's called reading.  
EB: god rose, i know what reading is. i read too! i just don't read psychology books the size of pittsburgh.  
EB: i forgot what we were talking about before we got onto this.  
TT: We do seem to have deviated rather spectacularly from the original subject, don't we?  
TT: Moving on. Though you may be closer to David than I, I may know something you don't.  
TT: Neener neener neener.  
EB: wait, what?  
TT: Let's just say that this quote unquote "Weird" behaviour is most probably not strictly for the sake of platonic bonding.  
EB: oh.  
EB: oh man.  
TT: Mm, yes. I figured you would say as much.  
EB: i don't know what to think about this.  
TT: Does the knowledge make you uncomfortable at all? Make you care for Dave less?  
EB: no!  
EB: no no no of course not!!!  
EB: nothing could ever accomplish that. even if he like. killed someone.  
TT: I see.  
TT: Knowing his motives, do you want him to stop acting "weirdly"?  
EB: ...well...  
TT: Well...?  
TT: John?  
TT: Did your computer freeze? It has been several minutes now.  
TT: Is something the matter?  
EB: no.  
TT: Nothing is the matter. Excellent news.  
EB: no i mean, no i don't want him to stop.  
EB: i think.  
EB: no, i know! i think... i think i know i don't want him to stop.  
TT: You certainly took a long time coming to that decision.  
EB: well, yeah. i dunno. it's weird, but...  
EB: how he's been acting lately- well not even lately! since we won the game, really- is really weird and undavelike most of the time but...  
EB: the fact that he's acting like that, just for me, makes me feel really special and happy and warm.  
EB: and kinda fuzzy.  
TT: It was about time you came to the realization.  
EB: what realization?  
TT: Dear God, John.  
EB: ...oh.  
EB: OH.  
EB: OH FUCK  
TT: I'm going to make this face now, to convey my overwhelming sense of confusion, though humans cannot bend their mouths in this shape.  
TT: Also, for nostalgia purposes.  
TT: :?  
EB: i'm not a homosexual  
EB: i'm  
EB: i'm not gay rose!!!!!!!!  
TT: That sure is a lot of exclamation marks. Eight, in fact. That habit seems to be sticking with you, even after all this time. Fascinating.  
EB: :C rose!  
TT: Right, not helping.  
TT: Why do you say that?  
EB: because i do not want to kiss boys, and because i think girls are pretty.  
EB: duuuuuuuuh?  
EB: well  
EB: i guess  
EB: argh!  
TT: Dave is an exception to the rule, I gather.  
EB: yes!  
EB: no!  
EB: i don't know!  
EB: i don't want to be a homosexual!  
EB: not that it's bad to be one, i mean. uh.  
EB: crap, i kind of forgot that...  
TT: You continue to astound me with your tact, and skill with words.  
TT: What does your foot taste like, John?  
EB: gross.  
EB: but i meant, uh, i don't think it's a word that suits me! i'm ok with homosexuals, really.  
TT: Yes, you're right, an identity label better befitting your person would be "goober".  
EB: haha you are so funny rose. you are just a riot! i'd better turn in my jester hat, never gonna be the group clown again after that. you are simply more hilarious than me.  
TT: My condolences. But can we please at least keep a semblance of sense and purpose to this discussion?  
EB: right, right. uh.  
EB: ...what do i do, rose?  
TT: My impression of the situation is this:  
TT: You still identify as heterosexual, yet you are incredibly possibly-not-so-platonically fond of your male roommate, whom we know for a fact returns those not-so-platonic feelings.  
TT: You live in a relatively open-minded day and age, where such a relationship would be perfectly acceptable, and your father would be proud of you no matter what choices you make, and will continue to love you.  
TT: My advice?  
TT: Wing it.  
EB: huh?  
TT: Wing it. Take a chance.  
TT: Kiss him, perhaps.  
TT: If not now, then soon.  
EB: but rose!  
TT: No buts. It will turn out fine. Take things slowly, I am sure David will respect that all of this is new to you and take things slowly.  
EB: but what if we're not friends anymore?  
TT: Your friendship is strong enough to withstand a relationship gone sour.  
TT: Good luck, and keep me updated.  
EB: wait!  
\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB]\---

 

John nearly exploded when Dave arrived home. He strode right through the door, letting his bag drop to the floor, groaned loudly and turned towards John, rubbing his eyes under his shades as he cracked his neck. "Fuck, I'm exhausted. Hey, Joh-"

Without even saying hello, John catapaulted off the couch, grabbed the sides of Dave's head, and kissed him violently. His stomach knots and a thousand emotions shoot through him in the second that Dave stops being shocked and kisses him back, putting a hand behind his head to bring him closer, and he thinks he's either going to faint or vomit. Or maybe both. God this is really weird, they both haven't shaved and it's all stubbly and their glasses are knocking, and his teeth are just ridiculously in the way but it's great and what's more? He loves it.

He's not exactly sure of everything, whether it's just hormones or if he really does like Dave. He isn't sure if he's a homosexual, he doesn't want to kiss other boys (Maybe he's just a Davesexual Or, uh... Daveromantic?), but he's sure of the fact that he does actually like kissing Dave.

He pulls away and the first thing Dave says is "Did you eat twelve boxes of tic tacs? Jegus christ, it's like a peppermint orgy in my mouth, and everyone's jizzing down my throat."

John frowns and shakes his head, casually kicking the empty boxes of tic tacs under the shitty couch. "No, jeez!"

A tiny, microscopic part of him wishes Dave would have asked him "What the hell was that" or "What does this mean", but he has no idea how he'd respond to that, so he's mostly relieved when he doesn't. He knows it will come eventually, however, but for now he's just content to enjoy it.

"Bullshit you didn't. Not complaining, though. It's a hell of a lot better than Flueorescent Throat Cancer gusher-taste."

John hits him, and they stand hugging each other for a few minutes before they sit down and play shitty videogames for a few hours.

-

"So, sonny," A brittle, shakey fingered hand comes to rest on John's shoulder from behind, and he lets out a short exclamation as he turns to see who was talking to him. It's Antoinette, one of the more cantankerous old women who lives at the nursing home John volunteers at every Saturday. She's a bit of a challenge, very grumpy on most days, with a sharp tongue and a fiery attitude, but for some reason she's John's favorite- not that he has favorites, oh no, he shouldn't have favorites! - and she's not shy about the fact that he's hers, too. Apparently, he reminds her of her son. With all the other workers and volunteers, she's ruthless, vicious with her words, but with John she softens and listens to his long-winded rants about his movies, and replies with her own. She crochets him stuff he displays in the apartment, much to Dave's silent admiration (Although he knows John's not being ironic, he can pretend), and John plays the piano for her in return. "Who's that young man who's always coming around to get you in the afternoons? He looks like a bit of bad work, with those shades."

John laughs and turns on his heel, sticking his hands in the pockets of the sweater one of the other ladies had knitted for him. "Oh no way, Annie! Dave's great! He doesn't look like it, I guess, but he's a really nice, fun guy. He's my..." He pauses and bites his lip, wondering what to say.

They still haven't talked about it, even though it's been a month now. A month of... what, exactly? Nothing has changed, really, they still sleep in the same bed like they always did, and flop all over one another. Now the only differences are that their cuddling sessions are prolonged further, more intimate in the sense that they allow one another to be held and not just hugged, but held with purpose and what's more, feeling. And they always kiss each other good-morning, good-bye, hello, and good-night. But they still play stupid games together, too, and joke around and wrestle and...

"He's my roommate, my best friend really. I've known him since I was a kid."

She nods once, and shuffles into another room for bingo as John goes to help one of the nurses give Eustice, the 90 year old war vet, his afternoon medicine.

-

"Dave," John gasps against said man's neck, gripping his shoulders tightly and straining the worn material of his shirt.

"John, Jegus fuck," Dave gasps back, incredibly uncool and muffled against John, running his hands down his lanky frame, invisible musclature left over from SBurb hidden by his lanky frame and baggy clothing, and lifts his shirt off, watching the green ghost slime T fall the floor along with his own jacket, and pulls his own off to match. John's making the most beautiful noises, God, noises that shouldn't be turning Dave on any more than he already is, his jeans are already uncomfortably tight and fuck was that a whimper? God he's all big blue eyes and pouty lips and flushed skin, and Dave wants to see how far down that flush extends.

"DaveDaveDave!" John squeaks as his wriggling causes him to bump against something poking up against his ass, and slaps his hands away from the undone zipper of his shorts, going an even more magnificent red. Dave watches, nonplussed, as John hovers over him, perched on his knees as he rezips his shorts, looking anywhere but Dave's eyes (well, his shades) and stutters unintelligably.

"You alright there?" Dave asks, one hand on John's hip, this time a touch of reassurement, and squeezes him curiously. He squints behind the shades and pretty much wills his boner into temporary nonexistance, making a note to take care of it later under a hot shower or something.

"Yes! No! Maybe? I um... I guess I am." Confident that it's safe to sit down again, John plants his ass back in Dave's lap and leans his head against his chest, tracing the raised skin of a scar on his shoulder. "I um..."

"What'samatter, John. Spit it out." The words may be harsh, but the tone they are said in is caring, almost loving, and Dave rubs lazy circles on John's hipbone, trying to calm him down. John just sits there and breathes for a few minutes, feeling vaguely guilty, but knows that Dave won't be too frustrated with him, and that thought is what makes him able to spit it out.

"I really, really like you! I just... I don't know if I'm, um... you know. Ready to... yeah." He closes his eyes, fully expecting Dave to laugh at him and call him a girl, maybe make a joke about a chastity belt, but it never comes. Instead, when he looks up to maybe say something, he's graced with a close-up, perfect view of Dave with his shades pushed to the top of his head. This makes the third time he's seen Dave's shades off (Not counting when they've just woken up, since he is too sleepy to process anything when that happens and Dave always has them on before he can!) and it pretty much stuns him right back into silence.

There's a reason Dave hides his eyes with his shades, one other than the eye color that got him so much shit in school before he clammed up and became a coolkid, and that is that no matter how deadpan his expression is wearing them, once they come off, his thoughts are displayed clearly on his face, his feelings up for broadcast to the entire world. Or John, as it were just now.

"It's cool, babe," Dave almost whispers, and John practically melts at the tone he says it in, and the genuine tiny smile that accompanies it. "I can wait until then. Tell me when to stop in the future, ok?"

John nods and kisses him again, thanking God/Karkat that he's got such a wonderful

...

best friend.

-

John and Dave fight over which movie to play a lot. John wants to watch Little Monsters ("Come on, dude, I know you've seen it before but I just want to see your reaction to the applejuice scene again!"), Dave wants to watch Twilight ("Do you know nothing about irony by osmosis even though we've lived together HOW long now?"), and every single time their fights end up shifting from mostly joke shouting to noogies and punches, and finally John

lunges

at Dave, long nimble fingers outstretched, and pushes his shirt up and starts tickling him, fuck he can't breathe anymore so he pushes John's shirt up too and now they're both giggling, shrieking at the other to stop,

"Fuck, John- hahaha- John I'm going to fucking kill you if you don't stop!"

"Oh god hahahaha oh my god ahahaha Dave you will- ahaha- NEVER win just- heeehahaha oh my GOD- give up now!"

until finally Dave throws up his hands shrieking "BANANA! BANANA!" (Which had been the safeword they'd established just for this) and John relents, shoving his DVD into the player with a triumphant grin.

-

"You know," Dave says into the top of John's head, eyes closed. John opens his eyes, long eyelashes dragging over Dave's cheeks, and he can't help but think it's like a butterfly's wing ghosting across his skin. "I should probably introduce you to Bro sometime."

John doesn't respond immediately, but when he does it's with a smile. "I'd like that."

-

One day John buys Dave a pair of frilly pink panties (He has no idea how his head didn't explode, he was blushing that hard when he bought them) to make fun of him for having such girly boxers, with Hello Kitty and flowers and hearts on them. Dave takes one look at them, raises an eyebrow, and leaves the apartment without a word.

He returns an hour later with a sexy Supergirl outfit clearly bought from a lingerie shop, and he throws it in John's face and pulls open the front of his shorts, saying that it's to match his Superman undies.

\- 

Another time, at two o'clock in the morning, John nods his head and fumbles with his zipper instead of asking Dave to stop, and Dave hurries to comply, plastering kisses over John's mostly naked body before ridding him of his boxers.

They don't go all the way that first night, but it's intimate enough, and it's fantastic as fast as it's over. John's shy and unsure, and Dave's a bit clumsy too, as he's never done anything with another guy before, but it's great anyway, and they fall asleep in one another's arms.

-

"I'll pick you up when I'm off work, aight? Don't take anybody's Alzheimer's medication." Dave says, and quickly wraps John in a tight hug before adjusting his shades and turning to stride off.

"Yeesh, there's pretty much zero chance of that. See you later, dude." John stands and leans against the doorframe, watching Dave leave, a dorky smile on his face as he turns to go inside once he's gone. He does a little dance when he thinks nobody's looking, he feels that great, and hugs himself like Dave had just done.

"You look like a goat with four left feet!" Antoinette says, snapping John out of his daydream, and leans heavily on her walker. She looks out the window at Dave's retreating car, and the ever-present frown on her face softens, just a little bit. "He's not that bad of a man, your best friend, now is he?"

It's rare that she says something like this, and John doesn't want to alter how she thinks of Dave or even himself, but now the words "Best friend"... though they remain true, it's just not the whole story, and not something he can leave unsaid. "Well, actually, Annie-" He pauses to grin a little, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I kinda lied. Dave's actually... Dave's actually my boyfriend, I guess. I really love him a lot, too!" He hadn't said that to Dave yet, no, and neither of them had said the words dating or I love you to the other yet, but with them, it didn't have to be said.

Hardly anything had to be said aloud with them. They just knew.

He fully expected the highly-religious, sort-of narrow minded Antoinette to turn purple and splutter at him, ranting about A Man and A Woman yada yada yada. But instead of that, she just smiled and nodded, saying, "I thought so. My own son has a boyfriend, don't you worry about me not approving, sonny. I know how much my approval means to you."

John hugs her in relief, and laughs along with her when she says she'll crochet Dave something. He suggests something with a crow pattern, for nostalgia's sake. His phone buzzes, and Antoinette shuffles off to do something else as he pulls it out and opens the Pesterchum app.

 

\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]\---

TG: yo  
TG: if you can direct your attention away from the geriatrics for a sec  
TG: gimme a bit of your  
TG: ...  
TG: time  
TG: bros coming over next week  
TG: thought i might introduce you guys  
TG: hows that sound  
EB: hahaha, oh god dave, that was awful.  
TG: shut up time jokes will be hilarious until the end of  
EB: time?  
TG: damn straight  
EB: i beg to differ. your time jokes are nearly as bad as that heir of blowjobs joke you made last week.  
EB: anyway, that sounds great! i can't wait to meet your bro. i bet he's almost as awesome as you are.  
TG: oh catch me egbert i may just swoon  
TG: such sweet words  
EB: well, get ready to swoon some more because.....  
EB: <3!  
EB: ok, i really need to get back to work! i think i just heard a crash!  
TG: wow what  
TG: ok im not giving you a shitty text heart back but i return the gesture just fyi  
TG: later babe  
TG: oh also i lied  
TG: <3  
EB: stop talking to me and do some work, you lazy ass!  
EB: bye, dave.

\--ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]\---

John's never been this happy in his entire life.

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god I wrote this ages ago for pirate  
> WHERE THE HECK IS JADE?


End file.
